


Prompt: Burningly Furious

by EssayOfThoughts



Series: MCU Maximoff Oneshots [150]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Wanda Maximoff, Codependency, Gen, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Slightly Scary Wanda Maximoff, Thaddeus Ross is a Dickbag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 09:44:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13292199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/pseuds/EssayOfThoughts
Summary: She can’t leave Wakanda immediately. There is no deadine to Ross’ threats, just vague implication, and while she is burningly furious enough to crush his skull with a finger-twitch, to pull his heart from his chest with a bare breath, she knows the value of waiting, of the lull, of letting a sense of security fall into place. She will wait -canwait, for even Tony Stark is not so cruel as to let Pietro be threatened without a defence.“Brother of the terrorist Wanda Maximoff,” says Ross, and threatens to pull the plug.“A hero in his own right,” argues Stark, and pours his own money into keeping the Cradle running.





	Prompt: Burningly Furious

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedSummerRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSummerRose/gifts).



> Written for a prompt on my tumblr, readable [Here](http://essayofthoughts.tumblr.com/post/169402279790/prompt-ross-has-pietros-comatose-and-slowly).

 

 **i.**  
“He has  _what?”_

Wanda’s voice brooks no argument, no excuse. Wanda’s tone is nothing but fury. Clint’s hands are gentle on her rage-shaking shoulders - not restraint, but a presence to calm.

“Pietro,” says Steve. “Ross - Thaddeus Ross - he’s moved into the Avengers’ base, claimed he has a right to decide what happens to your brother’s body in his Cradle and-”

Wanda knew of the slim hope of Pietro’s resurrection. She had sat with the doctors on the Helicarrier trying desperately to keep him some semblance of living, had spent days by the Cradle Helen Cho had given them use of before she had admitted to herself that Pietro, if he was going to heal and wake from his coma, was not going to do so soon.

And now, Ross has her brother.

Now, Ross threatens her brother, unconscious, injured, unable to defend himself - in an attempt to bring her into the open, to reveal the location of all the others in hiding.

The last time Wanda was this burningly furious she had torn through vibranium.

 

* * *

 

 **ii.**  
She bleaches her hair, down to the roots, She is many things when angry, dangerous, yes, volatile, yes, reckless, risk-taking, the kind of not-quite sane that concern for Pietro had always pulled her back from before, those things too - but outright  _unheeding_ of risks has never been one of them. She bleaches her hair, recolours it red - bright, carrotty, almost gaudy, then strips it back to the dull copper-gold Vati’s had been before he died.

She can’t leave Wakanda immediately. There is no deadline to Ross’ threats, just vague implication, and while she is burningly furious enough to crush his skull with a finger-twitch, to pull his heart from his chest with a bare breath, she knows the value of waiting, of the lull, of letting a sense of security fall into place. She will wait -  _can_  wait, for even Tony Stark is not so cruel as to let Pietro be threatened without a defence.

“Brother of the terrorist Wanda Maximoff,” says Ross, and threatens to pull the plug.

“A hero in his own right,” argues Stark, and pours his own money into keeping the Cradle running.

She bleaches her hair, dyes it, half-strips it of colour, strips her face of make up until she looks far older and just as tired as she feels. She remembers her lessons from Natasha, gathers her things.

“I am going to get my brother,” she says. “And I will kill any who try to stop me.”

 

* * *

 

 **iii.**  
“I owe a debt,” Clint says, and steps aside.

“I couldn’t stop you,” Steve says. “Not after Bucky.”

“Go,” says Sam. “Take care. Don’t be stupid.”

“Remember what I taught you,” says Natasha.

Scott, still half a stranger, shrugs.

“What Ross is doing,” says T’Challa when she goes to ask him for a craft, “Is unforgivable.”

 

* * *

 

 **iv.**  
There is foolishness. Wanda knows this. In her time she has been very foolish. There is folly, Wanda knows this as well. She has had her share of those too. 

But this, this that Ross would wreak is pure reckless idiocy.

And he will pay.

 

* * *

 

 **v.**  
Vision flies through the wall of her craft when she enters American airspace. 

“He’s making his final move today,” he says, bracing against the ceiling at Wanda’s risky flying. “Wanda, if he-”

She half-turns, flashes him a look, but her hands never leave the semi-physical controls. “Vision,” she says. “There is nothing he can do to me that would be worse than losing Pietro again.”

 

* * *

 

 **vi.**  
There is a grove well clear of the base. Wanda lands the craft, stifles her rage, and pulls a cap low over her face. There is no sign of scarlet as she walks towards the street.

As she walks, she wonders. She is stronger now, stronger by far than she was. Before, she had not been able to prod Pietro to waking and then, with training, she had not tried. 

It is effortful to keep the scarlet from curling out of her pulse and palms, but she does it.

She will waste none of her power if she might now wake her brother.

 

* * *

 

 **vii.**  
With her scarlet so close to the surface, so desperate to get out, to act, to see and to sense,s he spies Ross’ pulsating pustule of a mind from miles away. he is so loud in his purpose she does not even have to tap into his mind to hear his thoughts.

She walks on, pace unchanging, scarlet lashing but bound in her stomach, like a nest of twisting eels.

 _I am coming, Pietro,_  she thinks, stretching scarlet invisible to see her brother’s sleeping mind.  _Soon we will be free._

 

* * *

 

 **viii.**  
The base is familiar. She can feel Vision’s warm presence waiting in the wings, a warned Stark wary but present before her.

“Wanda,” he says. “You’re looking god-awful.”

She half smiles. “Remove god from the equation. That’s how I feel.”

Stark pulls a face. “Here,” he says, pulling out a case. “Just for you. Make this place safe for Banner when he gets back, won’t you? And everyone else.”

Wanda clicks open the case, runs fingers over the headpiece and uniform she’d only seen blueprints and prototypes of before. “Stark,” she says, laughing darkly. “If it comes to it, I will  _kill him,_  for sake of my brother.”

Stark looks unsurprised. “Yeah,” he says. “Figured. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

 

* * *

 

 **ix.**  
She feels how Stark waits ten minutes - enough time for her to have uniform and headpiece on, and to be most of a building away - before he raises the alarm. 

Chaos around her rises.

 

* * *

 

 **x.**  
If there is one thing she is grateful for, it is that not even Ross could move the Cradle from it’s basement level. It means she knows every step of the way, as perfect as her brother’s memory. It means she knows every mind which is meant to be here, and every mind which is an interloper.

It means she knows who to take out.

Scarlet seeps through all her skin.

 

* * *

 

 **xi.**  
The men had weapons suited for her scarlet, yes, but her scarlet as-was, before the Raft had set it wide and fearful-free. They had weapons suited to shock her mind, true, but her mind as-was, unshielded, unstrengthened without this headpiece Tony Stark has gifted her.

She walks, and they crumple.

 

* * *

 

 **xii.**  
“Ms Maximoff.” Ross, she can see clearly, her eyes scarlet with power, is shocked. She half paces the room, ready and waiting. “You-”

_Are not supposed to be here._

Wanda’s smile is as sharp and deadly as a knifeblade. “You threatened my brother,” she says, voice soft as falling snow. “Did you expect anything else?”

“I-” he stutters, stumbles back, cool composure lost as her scarlet only strengthens. 

_I thought we could stop you. Could capture you. Could catch the others. Thought you would be weaker, more reckless, less dangerous, We thought-_

Wanda raises a scarlet hand and  _pulls._

 

* * *

 

 **xiii.**  
Her brother’s Cradle is intact, untampered with. There are codes ready to shut the Cradle down but Wanda reaches out her glowing mind, taps on the edge of Vision’s and begs his aid.

 _Cruel, callous, unthinking man,_  sends Vision as he guides Wanda’s fingers.  _I did not think I could hate but-_

He does not send more. The sickly green-grey miasma of disgust and loathing is so bright in his mind it almost hides his warm orange and burgundy thoughts.

“Be grateful,” she tells Ross, sending his code into the depths of the deleted files where Vision can scrub it gone, “That you did not try harder to stop me.”

“Maximoff-”

“If you had,” she says, stepping over cables to focus scarlet through steel to awaken her brother’s mind. “You would be dead.”

 

* * *

 

 **xiv.**  
Time is limited, this she knows. There is only so long before reinforcements arrive, before others, more prepared, turn up. 

But then, stressed and under pressure is how she functioned for most of her life. She coils scarlet fingers into her brother’s sleeping brain, entangles his every thought and whispers  ** _Wake._**

 

* * *

 

 **xv.**  
By the time reinforcements arrive, Wanda is gone in a blur of her brother’s brilliant blue.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments!


End file.
